


liquid

by fairy_myeon



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Domestic Violence, M/M, Toxic Relationship, manipulative junmyeon, twisted relationship, yifan has anger issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:00:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23435068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairy_myeon/pseuds/fairy_myeon
Summary: Yifan wants peace, Junmyeon wants destruction.
Relationships: Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Wu Yi Fan | Kris
Comments: 6
Kudos: 53





	liquid

**Author's Note:**

> So this is something i had in my mind for a while and i think i completely fucked it up. I actually hate this lol but i need to put this out regardless.  
> I have no idea what this is but i tried ig.  
> This will be part one of a toxic relationship AUi am planning. My goal is to not turn them into the stereotypical abusive relationships that you find in fics. dunno if i had success. you tell me. 
> 
> please pay attention to the tags.
> 
> whatever tho, felt depressed so have this.

Police hallways were bland, not much to see. The station was old, chapped wallpaper covering the walls, cheap chairs with people sitting on them. Culprits, victims and witnesses mingling among each other like in a sick game. Yifan held no particular feeling towards those meager halls. He had memorized the way though, this was not the first time after all. He had lost count and simply did not care anymore.  
„For someone that almost faced serious jail time you seem very calm.“ The police officer seemed new to the job, for he was way too chatty with him. Granted, he probably did not know him or the charges he was accused of, therefore he probably opted for smalltalk. The officers that knew Yifan had stopped talking to him, they were too disgusted by him. The tall man looked at the ceiling, the bright yellow neon lights unpleasant in his eyes but he was used to unpleasant by now. In fact, that was everything he knew at this point of his life.  
„It’s quiet here.“ Yifan replied, missing the curious look the officer sent him. Yifan did not care anyway. A night in a cell was a nuisance, but it was not the worst thing that has ever happened to him. Far from it.

„Y-Yifan!“ A voice all to familiar. Yifan suddenly felt tired again when they entered the foyer of the police station. There were not many people here. Actually no one else except Yifan, some officers and… him. A small figure, tiny even. Black hair and wide eyes. Were there tears? The exact opposite of himself with his tall and broad figure, the dirty blonde hair and a face that made people change the sidewalk because looking scary was his constant companion.  
The small figure moved to make his way towards him, but a female officer softly wrapped her arm over his shoulders. „Not yet.“ She spoke in a kind voice, caressing the man’s arm soothingly. It was almost like she was trying to hold him back. She probably was.  
„We need the both of you to sign some papers.“  
Yifan did not look at what he was handed. He just signed it. He did not care. The sound of his pen against the old wood under the paper engraved itself into his ear, but it was not loud enough to drown out the sobs once the petite male finally made his way towards him. Hands coming up around his neck. Palms so small, Yifan knew he could wrap his own around them easily, swallowing him up. It seemed ironic.  
„Yifan.. I-I am so s-sorry…“ The voice seemed to break as the small body shoved itself against his bigger one. He looked at the paper, at his messy handwriting while this little voice sobbed against his chest.  
„Yifan I missed you so much.“ and „Yifan please I won’t do this again.“ and „Yifan I am sorry!“ Were phrases that he had heard so much and he loathed them.

„Mr. Kim. Are you sure you don’t want to press charges?“ The female officer asked now, hand carefully on the smaller’s shoulder to urge him away from Yifan. One of the many people that tried but never really succeeded. The small dash of black hair turned a bit, revealing wide eyes and tears that rolled over his bruised cheeks. Blue and Purple, a sight all to familiar to Yifan.  
„Y-yes I am sure. I changed my mind. It’s not his fault.“ Voice meek and naive, Junmyeon’s small frame captured everyone’s heart for how he looked so miserable. Yifan knew the looks, they were ordinary at this point. He was used to them.  
They switched from Junmyeon to Yifan, from sympathy to disgust. Junmyeon was small, whereas Yifan was big, the tiny figure no match to his broad build. Yifan’s knuckles were still bloody from last night and Junmyeon’s face was bruised. It was all too easy to see. 

„Are you really sure?“ They asked again and Junmyeon nodded, looking up a Yifan and they really looked at each other for the first time after they separated last evening.  
If there was one thing that had always been clear for Yifan, it was his love for Junmyeon. He loved him. Could never stop doing so. Even now, looking Junmyeon in the eyes could make his heart skip a beat. Even in this crude setting. Even after spending a night in an uncomfortable prison cell. Even with blood on his hands that belonged to no other than the small male in front of him. Yifan wanted it to stop but it just wouldn’t.  
„I am sure.“ He spoke into the police officer’s direction and they officially uncuffed Yifan and gave him back his stuff. His phone and a pack of cigarettes. The steel had left some marks on his skin but neither of them bothered. 

They left the police station under wary eyes. Eyes that Yifan knew all to well. Eyes that hated him. Eyes that loathed him. Eyes that pitied the male beside him, that was clinging onto him like he had been drained of a necessity and just got it back.  
Yifan’s hand reached out to put a cigarette between his lips while the other one stretched to Junmyeon, who wordlessly gave him the keys to the car. It was afternoon, the sun already setting so the glimmer of the bud was on par with the flicking of the headlights as he opened it and they got in wordlessly. Yifan took a deep inhale as he looked past the steering wheel for a few moments, sighed and started the Audi. Junmyeon had gotten in, too, buckling himself up. The taller knew that face he was making like the back of his hands, the gloomy but happy eyes. He was tired of this. Letting go was hard though.

The drive to their apartment was fairly uneventful. Yifan stayed silent while Junmyeon started to talk but the taller had no energy to listen. There had been a point in his life where listening to Junmyeon was his favorite thing to do, wether it was him talking or him singing, his voice the one of an angel and so soothing. But now it was white noise in his ears, it had become bland.  
Yifan’s dark voice emerged at one point, cutting into this words, but neither seemed to care. 

„I missed my appointment because of this.“ His voice raspy from the nicotine, he sounded throughly irritated. And, quite frankly, he was. Junmyeon didn’t react immediately, Yifan turning the car to their driveway and the vehicle slowly came to a halt, motor getting turned off. It was silent.

„You don’t need to go. Stay with me.“ 

Junmyeon saw Yifan’s knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. No answer. Only the loud bang of the cardoor as the taller left the vehicle. Junmyeon followed, the way to their apartment was silent, yet there was something arising in Yifan, the smaller noticed. Something both so bittersweet and tempting.  
Their apartment was cold, so void of life. Yifan remembered the days when their life was filled with joy, with warm colors and laughter. He remembered when Junmyeon did not shy away from his touches, when Yifan was not afraid to brush his fingers over his soft, pale skin. But everything that was left was nothing more than a shadow. A faint memory midst a dark reality. They had long crossed the line of repair, Yifan was tired. 

When the door closed, he looked at Junmyeon, the small, lithe frame standing there and looking at him. Sweater too big on him, probably one of Yifan’s, eyes wide, black hair tousled. Like a little, scared bunny. Yifan closed his fists as he felt anger, anger that had never left him. Those pure eyes just made him angry. Junmyeon tensed up visibly and the taller could see the bruises so clearly. His left cheek a tiny bit swollen, his lip busted. For the split of a second, Yifan thought it to be not enough, the sheer appearance of his lover, so fearful and seemingly innocent, irked him and he wanted to make it stop. Make the thoughts shut up that the little silhouette would put into his head.  
But he restrained himself, Yifan closed his eyes, took a deep breath and unclenched his fist, then turned to make his way to their living room. Completely missing the irritated look on Junmyeon’s face.

The tall man sighed loudly once he let himself fall into the comfort of the cushions of the sofa, arm placed over his eyes as he tried to relax. He knew relaxing was not good, because it made him think and reflect on the prior happenings. All he did was wanting to go to his appointment the evening before. But Junmyeon was not having it. And he was not having Junmyeon protesting. And then things escalated. Like always. 

Junmyeon was not heavy at all, yet he still felt the weight on his lap as the smaller crawled onto it to face him. Yifan did not remove his arm from his eyes, blood smudged fingers right in front of Junmyeon. He crooked his head.  
Small fingers would come up, almost hesitant, Yifan did not react at first once he felt them on his skin. Looking so pathetic next to his large hand. Junmyeon’s touches were always soft and tender.  
„Let me clean your hands.“ Voice gentle. Yifan could not be gentle, though.

He could not fathom why, could not understand why out of all the things Junmyeon would say to him, this would be the one thing to finally release the darkness within him. Why this was the last straw that broke. The taller gritted his teeth, large fingers now wrapping around the little wrist to pull his hand away, grip hard enough to bruise the pale skin. Then pushing forward to shove the tiny figure from his lap onto the hard wooden floor. Junmyeon would whimper, pain searing through his body that was probably even more exhausted than Yifan was.  
„Get lost.“ Yifan spat, digging his fingers into the armrest so they would not collide with Junmyeon’s full cheeks again.  
„B-But… Y-yifan…w-what…“ Junmyeon’s lips would quiver.

„Quit that bullshit.“ He was done, so done with this.  
„You fucking know what you are doing.“ Yifan leaned forward threateningly, rose even more beyond Junmyeon’s small frame that was scrambling on the ground, looking up. They knew who the stronger one was. But was he really? His large hand came down, creasing the fabric of Junmyeon’s sweater to pull him up to him, push him on his knees right in front of him. The smaller moved like a puppet. Pliant. Yifan’s touches were always harsh and bruising. It was their routine.  
Junmyeon looked up at him, eyes dark, so fucking dark. Yifan closed his fist tighter over the fabric, but only for a split second. He closed his eyes, felt Junmyeon’s small hands touching his knees to support himself in this position. He then looked down, fingers so small, pawing at the denim. The anger left him again under Junmyeon’s touches. His harsh grip softened. 

„I… fuck Junmyeon I am trying. You know that. I want to go to these appointments, I need to go them. I know they are helping.“ His voice was still deep, yet this time desperation was mixed into it, one that Junmyeon actually loved. And Yifan knew.  
„No! You know that is bullshit Yifan.“ He said, Junmyeon’s voice was so soft, his eyes so caring as he took his hand. Yifan, by now, had slumped his shoulders forward, almost like there was a weight on it that he could not carry anymore. And it was not so far from the truth. He did not push Junmyeon away again, as he caressed the bruised knuckles.  
„You only need to stay with me.“ He said, before he kissed them. His lips were so soft.  
Yifan sighed as he looked down onto the black mop of hair. The tiny figure he had hurt over and over again, Junmyeon, that would always hold him back when Yifan wanted to seek help.  
He did not want to lose his temper like that all the time, he knew about his mistakes. He was always the one to blame. By now it was engraved into his mind, cut deep into his skin. Yifan had remembered from the very first day of his life, that all the fault came down to him. He so desperately wanted to get all this relentless anger under control.  
It took so long until he accepted his flaws, accepted that his fists would rose quickly, that his anger was something that was not normal. That he was a toxic person if he did not try to prevent this from happening. He had been so proud when he finally made the step of getting himself a solution. The therapy sessions helped, they were useful. Yifan had been happy for a short amount of time.  
Finally, he would not have to hurt the love of his life anymore.

But Junmyeon did not want that. Junmyeon wanted destruction.

Behind the angel was as a demon, ready to devour Yifan. Ready to push him into the hole that Yifan had tried to not fall into for all his life. He knew he had issues, knew his temper was easily triggered. He was aware, he did not want to hurt Junmyeon. Hurting Junmyeon was the last thing on his mind, yet he would push all the right button he knew would make Yifan a violent monster. He was totally aware of what he was doing. He would provoke him, would purposely hold him back. Only to blame him afterwards. To cry, show off his bruises and fuel Yifan’s guilt. Sometimes, he thought, Junmyeon seemed to thrive off his inner conflict.  
It was like he got off on painting himself as the victim that was devoured by the big bad wolf. For Junmyeon, it was so easy to fuel everyone’s sympathy when his face was covered in bruises. Sometimes Yifan thought of himself as a sick individual, but Junmyeon’s games were another level of sick.  
Junmyeon was like liquid, so easy to change. He could wrap around him tenderly and sooth his mind, could be a remedy for his distorted soul. He could pour down onto him like a storm and he could cut into him like a sharp blade. It was paradox, but Yifan was at his mercy. Yifan had always thought his issues could not be controlled, but he was wrong. It was Junmyeon that controlled him. He did not notice it at first. Junmyeon was good at deceiving him.

At first Junmyeon had be supportive of Yifan’s decision to seek therapy and learn about anger management. They had been a couple for around two years at that time and there already had been incidents. Little disputes growing to be something bigger, Yifan’s anger that would blow things out of proportion and his hands that painted Junmyeon in bruises. His lover, cheeks full of tears, would always forgive him.  
To Yifan, it seemed like Junmyeon tried hard, like he wanted to stay with him. And Yifan wanted that too, but he feared one day the smaller would leave him. Not like he could not understand, he was an abusive monster. So he wanted to try hard too, wanted to fix himself and their relationship, that was threatening to burst into shambles soon.  
The first few months Yifan did so well, would never miss an appointment, would actually get better. But Junmyeon started to miss something. It was the guilt in Yifan’s eyes. The hand around his throat. The bruises on his ribs.  
So Junmyeon started to coax him into staying at home instead of going at the start. Would beg for him to stay, tell whatever lie to get Yifan miss his sessions. Until it started to become more apparent that he would hold him back, until they would start fighting about it. Yifan could not understand, he just wanted to better himself. Junmyeon just wanted to see the man he loved crumble. He would do anything, would beg him, would even seduce him.  
Their sexlife had always been full of love, tender touches and meaningful kisses, but on those days, it was not like that.

They fucked, neither of them bothering with caution as their body ground against each other, as their tongues clashed and their fingerprints stained the other’s skin. Junmyeon’s pale skin bruising even more, his ribcage already covered in black and purple from the night before. But Junmyeon did not shy away, it was the opposite. He wanted it to be seen. He wanted Yifan to see.  
Wanted Yifan to suffer.

With all his appointments unattended, he lost his motivation to better himself. He would get angry again, he would paint Junmyeon’s face. He would cry after that, would apologize. Junmyeon would forgive him, and then it would happen again.

Sometimes Junmyeon did nothing, sometimes he called the police, most of the times the neighbors did it though. Yifan remembered the first time, he had been so scared. Had cried for the whole night as he was isolated in his cell. Had feared to never see Junmyeon again. But at the next day, his lover came back to him. All charges pulled back and Yifan had been so happy. He had thought they had finally reached a point, where Junmyeon would allow him to try again. But he couldn’t have been more wrong.  
It opened the door to a complete new kind of suffering and guilt that Junmyeon could put him through. All the power he had, deciding when Yifan was allowed out again. Yifan had to rot inside the police station until Junmyeon deemed it right. Yifan knew the sick thrill Junmyeon got when he picked him up. He knew he loved the eyes of sympathy. All the people around them would pity Junmyeon, poor little Junmyeon that was trapped into the arms fo Yifan, too scared to escape. Yifan had no one left that liked him anymore. He had only Junmyeon.

Thinking back, Yifan wondered if Junmyeon should have never come back the first time he had gotten him into the hands of the police. Maybe things would have been better for them.  
But the crucial thing was, they still loved each other. They could never not be in love with each other.  
Yifan felt defeated as he sat there, Junmyeon’s lips pressed against his hands, the roughness of it’s wound pressing against the bruise on his hand. Almost like it did the past night. He felt so tired.  
„What do you want from me, Junmyeon?“ He tried again, this time more agitated. “Why are you doing this? I try so hard, and you ruin everything. You’re ruining me.“  
Junmyeon looked up and his face would distort into a grin and it let Yifan’s blood run cold. It was heartless. Sometimes, Yifan was scared, too.  
„I am ruining you? You hit me.“ His voice was not soft anymore, almost dry, drained from water. He was accusing him yet again and Yifan was irritated.

„Yet you did not lock me up. Again.“ Yifan spoke, cynic in his voice. What game was this? When was it over? When would they stop?  
„Aren’t you happy about that?“ The smaller asked, crooking his neck, biting his lip and he looked so smug.

Junmyeon could not help but love the distress in Yifan’s eyes. He enjoyed the power of being a victim. Enjoyed how every bruise on his body could ruin Yifan’s life. He was small, so small, fragile, not in the slightest strong enough to protect himself against his lover’s physical strength. „Oh, my poor love.“ He said, thumb now coming up to press against Yifan’s chapped lips.  
„I wonder when the waves will finally swallow you.“ 

It was a vicious cycle, one Yifan always tried to defeat. But how should he do it if the person he wanted to protect was working against him? Junmyeon was small, but he would always win. He all too aware of it.

Yifan knew when his fist rose again next time. Saw Junmyeon’s dark smile masked behind his scared face.

Junmyeon was like liquid, easy to change. No matter how much strength Yifan possessed, he would always drown.


End file.
